


The Bobcat and the Bear

by Flobbergasted



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Episode: s01e01 Caretaker, Gen, Missing Scene, Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 05:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flobbergasted/pseuds/Flobbergasted
Summary: After the mess with the Caretaker, the abducted crewmen, the destroyed array, and the revelation that they faced a very, very long journey home, how did Janeway come to “invite” (her words to Tom Paris) Chakotay and the Maquis to stay aboard Voyager?A missing/extended scene from the pilot, in which the two captains hunker down and negotiate terms.





	The Bobcat and the Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in 2013 on Fanfiction.net
> 
> Reposted here with minor corrections

The Maquis leader was a tall, dark, sturdy man. Bear-like by anyone’s standards, his facial tattoo and brush-cut hair gave the impression that he meant business. He was strong and intelligent, but quiet, and friendly once you got close enough. Still, for a man who was known by those close to him to wear his heart on his sleeve, Captain Chakotay was good at playing his cards close to his chest. And he did so now, with calm resignation, as he entered the ready room on the _U.S.S. Voyager._

Inside the ready room, Captain Kathryn Janeway, a petite woman with a larger-than-life presence, was seated behind her desk. The Starfleet captain was every bit Starfleet—prim, with a rigid stance and a ship-shape uniform—and it had been difficult for Chakotay to tell what kind of person lay behind that exterior. She walked with purpose, carried herself with grace, and spoke with an aristocratic air. She had bountiful auburn hair, worn pulled back in a no-nonsense style. She was brightly intelligent and quick on her feet. And Chakotay got the sense that, if necessary, she could pounce.

They had only just met, but already they’d gone through quite a lot together. Janeway’s ship, as well as Chakotay’s, had been unceremoniously pulled to the furthest reaches of known space, far from the Alpha Quadrant (the realm of Earth and the United Federation of Planets). Together with their senior officers (and that morally bankrupt traitor, Tom Paris—but that was another story), they had investigated and confronted the alien creature responsible for their situation (the “Caretaker”), made first contact with new alien species (the Ocampa, the Kazon), and rescued two crew members who had been abducted. They had then explored the possibility of using the Caretaker’s technology to send them back to the Alpha Quadrant, but it would have come at a price too high to pay. In the inevitable melee, Chakotay had used the smaller Maquis ship as a battering ram and bomb when it became clear that, even together, the two ships didn’t have enough fire power to finish what they had started.

So it had also become clear that neither ship would be travelling home the same way it had come to be there, in the faraway and mysterious Delta Quadrant. Based on what little stellar cartography they had for that region, and the capabilities of the one ship they had left, the ship-board scientists and engineers estimated a seventy-year trip back home (unless they could find a more expedient solution along the way). Now, in the early aftermath of the ordeal, the restless, uneasy crews of the two ships—about 150 people in total—had been given to understand the essentials of their situation, and their immediate needs—first aid, sustenance, rest—had been taken care of. But they could only begin to accept their lot, and take steps to rectify it, once their captains had worked out a plan.

The time had come for negotiation.

As Captain Chakotay entered the ready room, Captain Janeway invited him to take the seat across from her. He sat, gathering his thoughts.

Janeway called for hot coffee and poured out into two delicate teacups, leaving room for milk and sugar in the cup she offered Chakotay. He nodded in thanks and dropped in two lumps of replicated sugar, with a little cream. Stirring quietly, not yet looking up at her, he waited for her to speak.

She took a sip of her coffee, and another. Then, with a smooth, decisive motion, she placed the teacup back in its saucer and leaned forward, elbows on the desktop, hands clasped together. “It’s been a rough time for both of us,” she began, “and for the crews. I don’t need to tell you that, Captain Chakotay. But we’ve already overcome one challenge together: B’Elanna Torres and Harry Kim have been returned to us safely.”

Chakotay nodded, likewise relieved that both of their crew members were alright, but not ready to volunteer anything further.

She went on. “I know from intelligence provided by Mister Tuvok that you are a former Starfleet officer. I haven’t had the chance yet to delve deeply into your Starfleet record, but I gather you’re a capable leader and a brave pilot. And a principled man, if the stories I’ve heard are accurate. For reasons of your own, you left Starfleet and joined the Maquis. I’m not here to inquire into any of that. I understand that the Maquis are unhappy with the new treaty, and, given my position, you might see me as party to the deplorable conditions imposed by that treaty. But I hope you don’t see it that way. I hope you’ll agree that—at least for the forseeable future—those issues must be put aside. Frankly we have bigger fish to fry; everybody’s itching to get home.”

At least, Chakotay mused to himself, this captain seemed reasonable. He had observed the way Captain Janeway made decisions and treated her crew members, and he had developed some respect for her. He had even, when one of his own crew had questioned Janeway’s authority, enforced it. For the most part, throughout their adventure, he had been content to go along with her decisions. Going forward, though, could he continue to act only as a silent partner?

“You’re right,” Chakotay conceded. “We all want to get home. It’s priority one.”

Janeway nodded curtly in response, and waited for him to chime in. He didn’t, so she continued. “Yes. Good. It’s our new mission! And it boils down to this: we’ve got to make it easier for one another, not harder. As I see it, we have three options. First, Voyager supplies you and your crew with shuttlecraft and what provisions we can spare, if the Maquis wish to set out alone. Second, we provide shuttlecraft and supplies but fly as a convoy. Third, we all remain together on _Voyager_—she can keep us all afloat, I assure you—and we work together to get home.”

She stopped there and fixed an unswerving gaze on Chakotay. He held it. There was a twinkle in Janeway’s eye. Was it her determination? Was it dauntlessness? Or perhaps it was a sense of adventure, even good humour? She seemed tough and wary, but there was a liveliness in her that he found magnetic.

“I don’t see any other options,” Chakotay said. “I think we should all stay on this ship. I’m glad you’ve suggested it, so I didn’t have to. It’s the only reasonable thing to do.”

“Good. It’s my preferred option as well. It will give us the best chance.”

“I’d say we’re off to a good start—but the rest of the Maquis might not be so easy to convince.”

“I hope you’ll try.”

“I think with some … assistance, they’ll come to the same conclusion I did: we don’t have much choice, and we’ll have to make it work. But for it to work, you’ll have to treat everyone equally. Don’t put us in the brig, for one; assign quarters. And consider our capacities; eventually, you can assign duties.”

“You might technically be outlaws, but I would never put any of you in the brig on this ship unless you committed a crime on this ship,” Janeway was quick to clarify. “I’m sorry you would even think I might consider throwing the Maquis in the brig—for seventy years? Or any amount of time? It just wouldn’t be sustainable.” She shook her head as if to eject the very idea. “No, we’ll have to start fresh. Everyone deserves a clean slate. And everyone deserves to contribute. Not only do they deserve it, but they’ll have to; we’re going to need every set of hands we can get.”

Chakotay nodded in agreement. He was mildly relieved that she bore no apparent prejudice against the Maquis, and more relieved that she wanted to build unity. It was the only way. But how would it work?

“I’d be very happy to have your input, Mr. Chakotay, if you think certain people are suited to certain tasks. We’ll have to work together closely, you and I, to build new teams for almost every department on the ship.”

“I’ll be glad to to help.”

“More than that, we’ll have to become one team. One crew.” Captain Janeway clasped her hands together tightly, her focus noticeably turning inward as she tried to envision it. Picking up her cup of coffee, Janeway stood up and began to pace back and forth behind the desk. She glanced at Chakotay, pleased she had forged this new alliance, however tentatively.

He was difficult to read, this Maquis leader, but it intrigued rather than disturbed her. Janeway could see he kept a tight rein on himself, and he seemed full of contradictions. He wore the garb of a guerrilla but had the courtesy of a diplomat. His demeanor was cool and tough but somehow serene. She had seen that he was useful in action, but he seemed to think before speaking, unlike other freedom fighters Janeway had encountered. Perhaps it was a protective measure? Volunteer nothing, as a personal policy? She knew he must hold the Maquis cause dear, since he had become one of its leaders—a respected one, she could see from the behaviour of his crew, which unanimously deferred to him—and yet he had sacrificed the Maquis vessel in a pinch. He himself had shown deference to a different cause: their shared hope of finding a way home. So he was reasonable. At least she knew that.

Chakotay watched Captain Janeway pace. He could tell she was thinking—vigorously. Almost unable to help himself, he stood up with her and swivelled slightly to face her. Like a sunflower toward the sun, it occurred to him. There was something about this woman. Simply put, he felt he could trust her. And he decided to roll with it.

“I’m all for the idea of one crew,” Chakotay said.

“Thank goodness for that!” Janeway exclaimed, turning her gaze to him almost reverently.

“Actually I think you might be surprised,” said Chakotay, deciding to reveal the ace up his sleeve. “A few of the Maquis have had some Starfleet training. It’s not just me.”

“Really?” Janeway was genuinely taken aback, but it only took her a moment to recover. She resumed her pacing, and with a smile and an elegant, dismissive wave of her hand, said: “This is the problem with the Maquis: you’re not just a bunch of angry rabble-rousers. You’re a bunch of well trained, well educated rabble-rousers!”

Chakotay grizzled a bit, and Janeway knew she had been too frank—more frank than she had intended. He didn’t know her yet; he didn’t understand her sense of humour. She reminded herself to be tactful.

“I’m sorry,” she back-pedalled. “I don’t mean to cast aspersions; I sympathize with your cause, and in fact I find your devotion admirable. Formidable.”

“But you pity us,” Chakotay calmly observed. “You think the Maquis foolhardy and hot-headed. Even now you patronize me.”

She paused in her pacing and gave him a long look. Then she swivelled to face the viewport and gazed for a minute at the unfamiliar vastness outside. “Perhaps you’re right, and if you are right, I apologize. I’m not sure whether that attitude comes from me or from Starfleet. But it won’t do us any good out here.” She looked back at him, now with a determined gleam in her eye. “I will tamp it down.”

“I believe you,” he said after another moment. “And I appreciate your humility.”

She visibly relaxed.

For a few moments more, they were silent. They had sized each other up, and now the gravity of the situation began to sink in again.

Janeway went to the replicator and refilled her coffee cup.

“I’ve got to be honest,” Chakotay said then, still standing and facing her. “I don’t see how any of the Maquis, including myself, are going to be comfortable with the current command structure.”

“Look,” Janeway sighed. “I realize you’re a captain in your own right, but one ship with two captains is clearly out of the question. And I’m afraid I won’t be comfortable with this mission unless I’m in the captain’s chair. I’ve prepared for my original mission on _Voyager_, and I’ve been briefed on this new ship and its capabilities. More importantly, I’m responsible for what happened to this crew, and I intend to make it up to them. I intend to bear that burden.”

“You’re the captain. I’m not arguing that—although I do think I share the burden of bringing the crew here—but I’m getting at something else.” Chakotay had already been standing fairly stiffly, perhaps defensively, and he stiffened again now. “If my memory of the Starfleet hierarchy serves, Mr. Tuvok is the highest-ranking officer on the ship after you right now, since you lost your first officer, your chief engineer, your doctor. He might be the obvious choice for your number one, but if you’re planning to promote him to first officer, I have to warn you: that would be a hard pill to swallow for me and for all the Maquis. I won’t take orders from him. No offense meant against Mr. Tuvok—don’t get me wrong. But as far as I knew until very recently, I ranked above him, and then he turned out to be a Starfleet spy.”

Chakotay had expected the captain to be dismayed by this news, but instead she gave him a wry smile—and that twinkle in her eyes returned. She seemed to notice, then, that he was standing, as she was. Chuckling, she gestured for him to join her and made her way over to the plush banquette in the raised portion of the ready room. He gave her a tight, guarded smile in response, and left his nearly full teacup on her desk.

When they were both settled on the banquette, Janeway maintained a firm expression but leaned in conspiratorially. “Here’s the thing, Captain: I don’t think that would be a good idea either. I have worked with Tuvok for a long time, and I trust him implicitly—but I know better than to expect that trust from you or the rest of the Maquis, certainly not right away. Just as you say. No, I had someone else in mind entirely as a replacement first officer: someone with Starfleet command experience, someone who is a proven leader, and someone with whom I’ve recently developed a fairly sound working relationship.”

So it seemed she had come into this meeting with a fully fledged plan. And it wasn’t sounding so different from his own vision of the best-case scenario. So far. That he might serve as an officer, even in a command position, had occurred to him as well, but he hadn’t planned to propose it until he’d got a better grasp on Janeway. What sort of Starfleet captain invites a rebel to act as first officer, even in the Delta Quadrant? At most he had assumed she’d invite him to continue as a consultant, a speaker on behalf of the Maquis, and perhaps take some shifts at the helm.

If she had done that, he admitted to himself, he might have hit the roof.

“You’re so quiet, I can’t tell if you’re keeping up with me or not,” Janeway said, now with some levity. “I mean _you_, Mr. Chakotay. You are eminently qualified. I think we both bring important things to the table and would make a decent team. What’s more I think it would serve to unite the crew, and that is _crucial_.”

He considered carefully before responding. “I don’t mind telling you I left Starfleet to defend my home world. I wasn’t disenchanted with Starfleet necessarily, but the Federation didn’t seem interested in defending the place I held dear. I never set out to become an outlaw. I have no quarrel with Starfleet regulations myself, and I believe firmly in the Prime Directive. And yet …” Chakotay trailed off. He sat still for a long minute, ruminating. Now that rearranging the command team was on the table, Chakotay was certain he didn’t want anyone else in the position of first officer. He knew what the job would entail, and Janeway was right: it had to be him. But he could only consider it if he felt certain his crew would be taken care of, and his position would be taken seriously.

Captain Janeway saw his hesitation, though she didn’t comprehend it. She sipped her coffee, apparently willing to wait for him to collect his thoughts.

“I’m nobody’s token,” he eventually said.

“Certainly not,” Janeway assented. “I’m prepared to share command duties insofar as it meets with Starfleet standards: the crew—the whole crew—will answer to you, second only to me. After we assign duties—which we’ll do together—you’ll take on personnel issues and the duty roster. You’ll be my eyes and ears around the ship, but you’ll also be the voice of the crew in this office.”

Chakotay sat with that for another minute. He’d be between a rock and a hard place—a Starfleet crew that didn’t trust him yet, and a Maquis crew that might feel betrayed. Could he handle the pressure? Furthermore, how would his already battered loyalties take the switch? Did it have to be a switch? Could he straddle the two poles within himself without self-destructing? He figured he’d know by the end of this negotiation.

“Another thing,” Chakotay said squarely, beginning to enjoy the bartering. “If we discover anything that could lead home, I want full part of the investigation.”

“Consider it done. You’ll also lead away missions, if and when necessary. And I’ll grant you full access to this ship’s command codes and security clearances, as I would any first officer. And I’ll expect to be able to trust the ship to you if and when I’m away from the bridge.”

“You make it sound like these are privileges, but they’re responsibilities.”

“See, now that’s the kind of wisdom I’m looking for in a potential second-in-command!”

Chakotay chuckled and stood up briefly to stretch. “We’ve got to build one crew, but that can’t mean everyone will become a Starfleet crewman overnight. The Maquis will follow orders and work hard, but I’d like them to be able to keep their Maquis ranks and honours, if they like. Are you willing to relax the dress code a little?”

“A little, I suppose.”

He resumed his seat. “And my crew members will have to be equals with yours. I can’t stress it enough. I want them to have access to the same things your crew has access to: food, medicine, even holodeck time. They have to feel at home.”

“You really have been out in the badlands too long, Mr. Chakotay, if you think I would withhold health care. When it comes to food, I imagine we’ll all have to live on rations until we can find a power source and refuel. As for the holodeck … this isn’t a luxury cruise.”

“Compared to the ships the Maquis are used to, it is.”

“Hmm. I take your point. All right: every crew member—including you and I—will have the same rights and privileges, however thinly stretched. Together in feast or famine, as they say!”

“Good.”

“But you and I will still get the slightly roomier quarters,” she added good-naturedly.

Chakotay had to laugh a little. “I haven’t accepted yet, Captain.”

Janeway sensed, though, that Chakotay was thawing. Gently, she nudged him along. “It’s not really an offer, you know; it’s a request. From one captain to another, and from one Starfleet officer to a former one. … And, I hope, from one new friend to another.”

He smiled in response, tightly but sincerely, and Janeway noticed for the first time his brown eyes, their brightness, their depth.

But the conquest was not complete, and she steeled herself for another round.

“There is one more thing we must agree on,” Captain Janeway pressed on, in a resigned tone that said she expected backlash on this point in particular. “Starfleet regulations. The principles of the Federation are my guiding light in all things ship- and mission-related. I can’t imagine compromising that, even while heading up a mixed crew.”

Chakotay had expected this.“I’m not surprised you think that way, Captain. You might be surprised that I don’t oppose it. But I do think the Maquis will need a little time to acclimate. You’ll have to expect a learning curve for a while.”

“If you’re willing to oversee that, I’ll be very, very pleased,” the captain smiled.

“I might seem hardened,” he continued, consciously trying to loosen his jaw. (For how many years had it been set this tightly? Why was he only now noticing the strain?) “And I might have to refresh my memory about all those regulations,” he smiled again, less tightly now as he caught up to her earlier light-heartedness, “but I agree we have to have some code of conduct, and the Starfleet rulebook is the best one for our situation.”

Janeway was smiling so brightly now …

“Still,” he continued, trying to plow through to his point, “We should keep in mind that the Maquis will have some useful tricks up their sleeves.”

… and she was giving him a look of such earnest gratitude, now … Chakotay began to feel his burdens were being lightened—in spite of the weighty task ahead of them, and the difficult position he was about to accept.

“That sounds acceptable to me, so long as you run those tricks by me before pulling them,” she said.

“Fair enough.”

He almost regretted his next move—it would wipe the smile off her face, he guessed—but it had to be done.

“On a related subject,” he began, treading carefully again, “I’d appreciate it if we could clarify … the nature of the mission.”

“I’m not sure what you mean. Aren’t we trying to get home?”

“Absolutely. But I know that Starfleet’s overarching purpose is exploratory. I know your mission was ultimately meant to be exploratory. And we’re in uncharted territory, quite literally.”

“Yes …”

“I think getting home has to be the priority. It might be tempting, but we can’t … dick around.”

Janeway winced a little. “I’ll forgive the colourful vernacular this time, Commander, but please don’t make that a habit.”

“The Maquis, especially … They’re not explorers themselves. I can’t see them putting up with anything they see as a distraction.”

“You’re right about that,” Janeway acknowledged, sighing deeply. “Much as it stings. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time either, of course … but I feel, very strongly that we shouldn’t ignore the opportunity we’ve been given here. It is an opportunity; it doesn’t have to be seen as a prison sentence.”

“I’m not saying it does. I’m simply asking that we stay focused.”

“Think about it. Neither of us can complete our original mission. And here we are, on a ship equipped for exploration—we have laboratories, we have scientists, we have skills! If we can’t be of use to Starfleet in the way we originally were meant to be, perhaps we can be of use—not only to Starfleet but to everyone in the Alpha Quadrant—by beginning to chart the Delta Quadrant.”

“All right,” Chakotay agreed, trying to sound more reluctant than he was. Yes, focus would be better for the Maquis, but personally he wouldn’t mind a little discovery, a little giving in to curiosity along the way. But he could also see, already, that he shouldn’t readily admit that to this captain; he was getting the sense that his duties would include keeping her inner explorer in check. (Perhaps he’d see how things went; maybe he could relax this policy later.) “If we happen to chart part of the Delta Quadrant along the way, fine. If we happen to run into new peoples, or new phenomena, fine. We’ll deal with them and move on. But we won’t seek them out.”

She sighed again. “Yes, yes. Agreed.”

“Good.”

“But we will likely have to take detours to replenish supplies or accomplish other goals we can’t even imagine yet …” she hedged.

“No doubt.”

“Glad you understand.”

“We won’t be flying in a perfectly straight line for seventy years. I understand,” Chakotay poked fun.

Janeway gave him a half-hearted, almost regretful smile in response. She grew quiet, looking longingly into her empty coffee cup but seeming to decide against replicating a third serving. “Well, Mr. Chakotay, I hope as first officer you’ll go to bat for my crew as you have for yours just now.”

“_Our_ crew.”

“Indeed.”

It was Janeway’s turn to get up from the sofa and stretch. Perhaps it was her way of closing the subject. She picked up her empty cup and took it back to the desk.

So. Would he accept? Could he really serve as first officer on _Voyager_?

Yes. For this mission, yes. Under this captain, yes.

In fact, he was already beginning to feel his Starfleet training coming out of hibernation.

It was time to say so.

“I’ll serve as your first officer, Captain Janeway.”

She turned away from her desk and looked up at him keenly.

“And I’ll help the Maquis to understand and conform to the regulations,” he continued, as he stood up from the sofa and walked toward her. “Doing that might actually be easier than either of us thinks, now that we’re so far away from the Federation, neither under its thumb nor neglected by it. The Maquis crew members will just have to get used to you and the other officers; you’ll have to become what you want Starfleet to be for them.”

“I will do my best to make them feel welcome and useful,” Janeway promised. Now that he had accepted, she seemed to be gaining confidence and enthusiasm by the second. “And I’ll see that my crew does the same. … And I thank you for accepting, _Commander_.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m sure you’ll look dashing in red.” She beamed at him again, and a moment of satisfied silence passed between them.

Feeling the meeting had ended, Chakotay made to leave—and then realized he was no longer strictly free to do that; his captain hadn’t yet dismissed him. He would have to get used to standing on order again.

“Please tell me one last thing, Commander Chakotay,” Captain Janeway said then, more softly. “Is there anything else I can do to make this situation palatable to your crew? Or to you personally? Is there anything you need from me?”

What more did he need from her? She had been gracious and optimistic. She had been open to change. She seemed like-minded, seemed to hope their alliance would hold fast. And she seemed willing to work for it.

“I only have one request,” he finally said. “When I come to you, listen.”

With a slanted nod that he would later come to know as characteristic of Kathryn Janeway, she agreed.

Finally, she offered her hand. He shook it and held firmly for a moment, sharing the sense of relief that seemed to flood her then. For a moment he had a glimpse of the woman behind the captain: weary, anxious, vulnerable, hopeful, forbearing. He tried to communicate his intentions silently: _I am afraid too. You are not alone._

_We can do this._

And then she was off to the races. “First thing, I’ll need you to communicate all this to the Maquis—that is, the newest _Voyager_ crew members. And I’ll need you to help them become accustomed to life on a Starfleet vessel. … I’ll get a couple of crewmen to assign temporary quarters. … Of course you can rearrange the assignments whenever you like—first officer’s prerogative—but you might have more important things to do today. … Tonight we’ll eat all together, everyone in the mess hall—that will help with morale, don’t you think?—and you and I can address the crew. Our one crew. … Here’s a PADD. Please refresh your memory of the first officer’s duties. And read up on the ship …”

“So,” Chakotay quipped, once she had begun to wind down and he could get a word in edgewise, “I’m not so immovable as you might have thought.”

Janeway whipped back at him, laughing drily: “And I am probably just as immovable as you guessed I would be.”

Chakotay raised a mischievous eyebrow and pursed his lips gleefully in tacit confirmation.

“One last thing,” Chakotay said then, with the mischievous gleam still in his eye—and a shadow of something darker, which Janeway chose to ignore for the time being.

“What’s that?”

“Your crew member, Tom Paris?”

“Yes?”

“His life belongs to me.”

“… I’m not entirely sure what you mean by that,” Janeway deadpanned, “but I think I’ll leave it between the two of you. Dismissed.”

So perhaps Starfleet and Maquis could work together after all—so long as “Starfleet” meant Kathryn Janeway and “Maquis” meant Chakotay. And it appeared that, at least for the next fifty years or so (their whole lifetimes, good grief), it would.


End file.
